Invaders
by capitolrebel
Summary: ...Space and other kinds. Everyone should be remembered.


**"Invaders" by mollyina  
**_Don't own (I always forget to put that), and review, review, REVIEW!!_

"Malcolm, can you take a look at-"

Zaf starts at a loud and cacophonous "sshhh!" from Jo and Ros, who are crowded around Malcolm's desk, focused intently on whatever's happening in front of them. Leaning over, he expects to see some blueprint or hack-in-progress, maybe vitally important surveillance. Instead, most of the screen is black. Rows of tiny green ships dance across the top, alongside a ludicrously high score.

"Space Invaders?"

Jo nods and holds a finger to her lips. He ignores her.

"You're all completely useless. If it wasn't for me, the nation would be doomed. What are you two doing in here, anyway?"

"Hiding" Jo grimaces.

"Really more of a strategic retreat." Ros corrects her, and then by way of explanation, "Our very latest Ruth-replacement bought Harry the wrong kind of sandwiches."

Jo turns back to Malcolm while Zaf and Ros exchange a small wince. Their first replacement analyst had been fired within three hours of arrival for failure to lay hands on a thirteen year old No Eyes document belonging to the Syrian Intelligence agency that nobody had specifically asked her for. The second accidentally broke Jo's stapler and induced a three hour tantrum from Harry on how budget spent replacing stationery could not be spent catching terrorists, making her virtually an accomplice to mass murder. The third had suffered a complete nervous breakdown for reasons unknown and was now receiving the best medical care. The fourth, a small dark haired woman named Rachel, had walked into the briefing room, dropped her files and Harry, inexplicably angry, had sacked her on the spot.

A loud klaxon and a flash of green startle Zaf out of his reverie. Malcolm has progressed to the next level. Jo grins and Ros puts a hand on his shoulder as Zaf squeezes in between the two girls.

"Blimey, the last time I had a leggy blonde girl either side of me was-"

"Playing with your Barbie doll collection?" Ros asks idly, but her barbs have lacked spark recently. Zaf suspects she's starting to quite like them, even if she won't admit it.

"Hey, Malcolm's about to hit the high score!" Jo, as usual, interrupts his half-formed snappy retort. Jo is overly sensitive; she doesn't understand that Zaf and Ros can argue for pleasure as well as points.

The look on Malcolm's face is intense, concentration etched in every line of his features. His expression doesn't change as he takes out two more of the invaders. Ros' fingers tighten and Jo is hopping up and down already – a ridiculous amount of sentiment seems attached to this game, but Zaf isn't going to argue. He's glad of it. Adam stuck at Tring again, against his will, Harry in a permanent blazing temper, crying analysts everywhere, it's fairly inspiring that the four of them can still get excited over Space Invaders.

Zaf jumps and Jo actually shrieks as Malcolm is hit by the ship. It's an easy one, too, right in the middle, past the barriers. He sits back with a look of resignation.

"Oh, Malcolm! You were so close! One more hit and you'd have taken the high score!" Jo seems heartbroken by the loss, the poor sweet girl.

"Yeah" Zaf agrees "But what's the point in beating your own high score, eh? You're still the champion."

He nods. Malcolm hasn't said a word. It seems deeply unusual, wrong even, for him to be quiet this long. Zaf opens his mouth to ask just as Ros crosses to the door and opens it.

Silence. Well, not silence, but background noise, computers humming, people talking, phones ringing. No sign of Harry or the girl.

"Think it's safe?"

Jo nods and sighs, peering out and around. Zaf spots something she hasn't and mutters "Cruella alert".

"Damn. Zaf, see if you can find Harry. Ros, take care of Juliet and I'll go and look for the girl, okay?"

They nod. Zaf watches Jo pick her way towards the girls' toilets, watches Ros plant herself in front of Juliet's wheelchair, and sets off for Harry's office.

Malcolm, alone at his desk, waits for the high scores screen to flash up. After a few seconds, it obliges, and he watches with satisfaction as his latest game goes in at number two. Exactly as he wanted it.

_**High Scores**  
1. Colin 54,278  
__2. Malcolm 54,275  
__3. Malcolm 54,271_


End file.
